One Last Hope: The Lightning Struck Tower
by Pikachu the Conqueror
Summary: Amy’s second year at Hogwarts turns out to be just as eventful as the first, complete with mind reeling visions plaguing her dreams and ponderings on what Harry Potter is up to now…[Sequel to One Last Hope: Dumbledore’s Army]
1. Pancakes and Lemonade

A/N: AHHHHHHH! I'M SORRY! (I'll stop yelling now.) I really meant to get this up faster. No, I really did! It took a while to edit the entire prequel (and in doing so, I realized that the names for these fics are kinda lame…but I couldn't think of better ones so oh, well). Anyway, here's the first chapter…I hope you can remember what happened in the last fic…::hangs head in shame::

Disclaimer: Really, you should ask yourself this: If I owned Harry Potter, why would I be writing fanfiction?

Dedicated to absolutely anyone at all who put up with the wait and is bothering to read this…you are awesome beyond words.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

One Last Hope

Chapter 22: Pancakes and Lemonade

Amy ran flat out up the stairs, and upon reaching the top, grabbed the rail to swing herself around the corner, before racing down the hall, her heart pounding at a volume to match her thundering footsteps. She launched herself at a door, yanked it open and threw herself inside the closet, slamming the door behind just as her pursuer came around the corner.

The red-haired girl tried her best to keep her breathing quiet, even though she was gasping for air. She heard slow, purposeful footsteps start to come down the hall and she instantly froze, though she was afraid the pounding of her heart would give her away.

She quickly pressed herself into the shadows as the handle slowly turned before the door was thrust open, but as she looked up at the tall, ominous figure, she knew he could see her and her breath caught.

"Found you!" the figure yelled as he lunged at her.

"Brak!" Amy made a peculiar sound reminiscent of a parrot as she dived under her would-be captor's outstretched arms and rolled onto the carpet behind him.

"Hey, get back here!" he shouted, but Amy had already scrambled to her feet and was hurling herself through the house once more.

"Not this way!"

Amy nearly collided with the very petite figure of the girl who came racing up the stairs.

"Why - ?" Amy began to ask, but she was cut off as the other girl grabbed her arm and threw her out of the path of a second pursuer.

"Ha! You can't run, that's a dead end!" called one of the fast approaching figures behind them.

Amy turned to her best friend. "He's got a point, you know."

"Oh, shut up, it's not over yet!" Erin replied fiercely.

Unfortunately, at that moment, the wall came crashing into them…and so did their pursuers.

"Now it's over," teased one of them, grabbing Erin and carrying her away, upside down.

"Oh, no you don't!"

Erin fought to free herself the whole way down the stairs, but her captor hardly seemed to notice.

"You think you could hurt me?" he asked casually. "You're a toothpick."

"Shut up!"

Amy went a little more willingly with her own captor instead of fighting a losing battle, and thus was able to be carried bridle-style, which she had discovered was much more comfortable to be put through than the way Erin was currently dangling.

"Ha! We've won again!" announced Amy's captor upon arriving in the kitchen. He set Amy down on a chair, where she pouted playfully.

"No fair! You're twice my size!"

"And three times Erin's," the other boy teased, dropping his captive suddenly. "That's, what, every single game we've won now?"

Erin just glared at him from her awkward position on the floor.

Just then, an older, friendly looking blond woman entered, smiling cheerfully. "Who's up for pancakes?"

"Me!" Erin exclaimed, jumping off the floor, her previous mood forgotten.

"Your brothers hunted you down again, I see," Erin's mother smiled as her daughter started to invade the fridge, looking for whipping cream.

"But they're twice our size," Amy pointed out again. "Don't you think that gives them an unfair advantage?"

"Absolutely," Erin's mother replied, smiling down fondly at their latest houseguest.

Amy turned to stick her tongue out at the brothers in question, but they just sneered in response.

After getting off the train four weeks earlier, Amy had gone home with Erin, feeling nervous and out of place, as though she was imposing on her best friend's entire family. However, those feelings had completely evaporated within the next three days. Everyone in the household had accepted her as one of their own immediately, so that now Amy rummaged through their cupboards, forgot to remove her shoes when she put her feet up on the couch and stole pens without ever putting them back, just as though she were an annoying cousin who was visiting – but she only did these things because they treated her the same. They got to the shower before her, borrowed her things without asking, and stole her carefully horded pens. She loved every minute of it.

They could never substitute for her own family, of course, but they all seemed like cousins and an aunt and uncle. She would often feel slight twinges of guilt when she realised that she had more fun with Erin's family that she could remember having with her own in a long time. Especially since her mum had said she couldn't go back home…

"Pancake, Amy?" Erin's mother, who now insisted Amy call her Aunt Sheryl, held a pancake in front of her via spatula, effectively cutting short her funny face duel with Erin's brothers.

"Oh, yes please!" Amy squealed.

"Want some syrup, Amy?" asked Jon innocently. He was the older of the brothers, though not the tallest, and had brown hair that was very short, and as a result, Amy had discovered, it was very difficult to pull.

"Oh, no, I'm not falling for that again," replied Amy, who had not quite managed to suppress the memory of how extremely difficult it was to get maple syrup out of long hair.

"Oh, come on, like we'd pull the same stunt twice," remarked Eric, the taller, blonder brother.

"Oh, yes you would!" exclaimed Erin. "Like that time when-"

"Alright then, how about we play some Quidditch today?" asked Eric quickly, effectively muffling the voice of his sister. He was not exactly the sort of person who cared about subtlety.

"Quidditch? Can we really even call it that?" Amy asked teasingly.

The Waters had a fair sized backyard with a fence all the way around it, where Erin and her brothers had been playing Quidditch since the age of about three. Their mother had put a magical barrier around the yard so that their Muggle neighbours wouldn't notice anything, but it also meant that they could only fly within that constricted area. There was also the fact that the family didn't have the right Quidditch balls. Footballs (supplied by Erin's dad, who was determined to teach his kids Muggle sports as well) substituted for Quaffles, and foam balls of every sort were used instead of Bludgers (which had been banned by Mrs. Waters). None of these balls were enchanted in any way, so it was rather hard to unseat opponents with them when only armed with a baseball bat. The only real Quidditch ball was the Snitch, which Erin had been given for her eleventh birthday.

"Oh, you know you love it," Eric teased her back. But it was true – their way of playing (with no rules whatsoever) was just about as fun as real Quidditch looked.

"We may not play by official standards, but how would you know the difference?" Jon chimed in. "You've never even played real Quidditch."

Amy's only response was to stick her tongue out. She had been pulling a lot of faces since she had come to Erin's house.

"Oh, Amy dear," called Mrs. Waters from the stove, where yet more pancakes were flipping at increasingly frequent intervals, "Have you heard back from Tomas yet?"

"Yup," replied Amy, her mouth full. She swallowed. "He's dealing okay with me not being there, and he's really exited to see if he'll get a letter from Hogwarts this year."

"How's Tara?" asked Erin. Amy knew her friend felt guilty for keeping her away from her Muggle best friend all summer.

"She's okay," Amy nodded. "After all, you did let me spend a week at her house, and she understands that I er – can't go home."

"What'd you tell her?" asked Jon quietly.

"Mum's renovating the house," Amy replied, not looking up from her plate. It was still a sore subject for her. But as Mrs. Waters had said, it was pretty shocking to be thrown out of your own home.

Just then, I giant pile of feathers fell on Amy's plate, effectively distracting her.

"It's Dustbunny!" Erin squealed, pulling the now-sticky owl off Amy's ruined plate.

And indeed it was. Dustbunny was the largest and most appropriately named owl Amy had ever met, as it had so many fluffy feathers you could hardly tell it was an owl at all.

Amy stuffed her hand into the mass of feathers and grabbed hold of a leg. She undid a bit of string and pulled her arm back out, a letter clasped tightly in her hand.

"Who's it for? Who's it from?" Erin asked Amy, getting her elbows in the remnants of Amy's pancakes as she looked over her friend's shoulder.

Amy looked at the address and smiled as she recognised the handwriting. "It's from Harry!"

"Really? Well, come on then!" Erin grabbed Amy by the sleeve and dragged her up the stairs and off to her bedroom, as was customary whenever Harry wrote.

"Honestly, you'd think they had nothing better to do all summer," Jon muttered as Eric rolled his eyes after the fleeing girls.

That was, in fact, not at all the reason that Amy looked forward to Harry's letters so much. The mere fact that he was remembering to write and not forgetting her in his misery was reason enough to be happy, but it also made her feel that, despite all the things she wasn't allowed to know, she was still connected. It felt good to not be shut out completely.

"Dear, Amy," Amy recited to Erin, who she suspected only got this excited to humour her. "I'm still at Ron's. And no, I can't tell you what the big news is, I'm sure Ron will want the pleasure of telling you him – ow – okay, maybe not, but still…it's a surprise."

Erin groaned.

"There's really not much going on around here right now, though. We're still playing Quidditch, Ron's getting better but Hermione still sucks, and we all wish we could see you play. All right…that's mostly me, but still. We're just waiting for our O.W.L. results to come in, I'll let you know how I did the second Hermione stops either congratulating me or pestering me (if it's the latter, then, well, never). Hope you're all well over at Erin's, and give my best to Erin and Nick. Where is he, by the way?"

"Still on vacation with his family," Erin recited, as though she had to answer this question frequently.

"Your completely-fine-so-stop-asking-me cousin, Harry."

"Not one for sentimentalities is he?" commented Erin.

"I guess not," replied Amy, folding up the letter and stuffing it into the side pocket of her trunk (which was still splayed out on Erin's bedroom floor) where she had stashed all of his other ones.

"What're you gonna write back?" asked Erin, flopping onto her mattress as Amy dug around in her trunk for a quill, some ink and parchment.

"Donno," Amy replied, smiling. "But I think I'm going to brag about how much fun I'm having," she continued, thinking about her cousin's complaint on being asked if he was okay. "Dear Completely Fine….."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Amy's summer vacation turned out to be much more eventful than any of her past ones. And although she had a lot of fun, what with playing "Quidditch", having pillow fights with Erin every other night, and an incident that involved her nearly falling out of the tree in the yard she had tried to climb, Amy's good mood was often punctuated by the reports of random attacks and mysterious disappearances that would come to the family via newspaper, the Wizard Wireless or Erin's mother, who worked in the Improper Use of Magic Office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry.

However, everyone had made a valiant effort to lighten the mood on August 7th, the day of an attack, to celebrate Amy's birthday. The Waters had put up streamers and balloons, set off a few of Fred and George's fireworks, and made her a gigantic cake decorated like a smiley face.

"I designed it," Erin announced proudly as the cake was set in front of Amy.

"I would never have guessed," Amy replied sarcastically.

"Make a wish, hun," encouraged Mrs. Waters.

Amy thought for a moment. _I wish Voldemort would explode into a pile of harmless dust._ Then she blew out the candles to general applause.

"And _here_," said Mr. Waters, or Uncle Charles, as Amy now called him, coming forward with a wrapped package, "Is your present."

"Wah," Amy breathed, as the rather large package was placed in front of her.

"It's from all of us," Jon explained.

"Well, open it!" exclaimed Erin, as Amy just sat there, admiring the wrapping.

"Oh! Right," she said quickly, and ripped it off eagerly, her heart stopping as she saw what it concealed. "Oh, my…." Amy trailed off in wonder as she gazed at the magnificent new broom in front of her.

"Happy Birthday, hun!" cheered Mrs. Waters.

"It's a Cleansweep Eleven, just like Ron has," Erin explained, as Amy discovered the same thing by examining the handle.

"Oh, guys…" Amy trailed off, not quite knowing what to say. "You shouldn't have," she finished lamely.

"Don't be silly, it was our pleasure," admonished Mr. Waters, smiling.

"Besides, you're going to need a decent broom to have any hope of getting on your house team," added Eric.

"Well," said Amy, picking up the broom gingerly. It was vibrating, as though eager to fly for the first time. "I still don't know if I'll…Can I try it out?" her thought changed mid sentence; the eagerness of the broom was contagious.

"Yeah," cried Erin enthusiastically. "Let's play a game right now!"

As Eric and Jon nodded, Amy grasped the broom tightly, already feeling quite attached to it. And then suddenly her joy exploded.

"Thanks, you guys!" she exclaimed, pulling each and every one of them into a massive group hug. Then Jon and Eric were picking her up, and the family was heading to the yard, Erin bouncing and skipping with glee.

Then one morning, instead of waking to the sounds of general ruckus and occasional minor explosions, Amy woke because of the combined effort of the sunshine streaming through Erin's window and the melodies issuing from numerous birds outside said window.

"Whaaaa?" yawned Amy, rubbing her eyes and sitting up groggily. She blinked confusedly around the room, slowly taking in her surroundings, wondering why she felt so rested. Then it dawned on her and she felt a wave of horror wash over her; she had slept in.

Launching herself off the bed, Amy grabbed a random sweater (that probably belonged to Erin) and shoved it on as she clambered down the stairs. She stumbled into the kitchen and brought herself, panting, to an abrupt halt just before the table, where the Waters family sat gathered around the _Prophet_, all clutching mugs of hot cocoa in their hands.

Amy slid silently into the chair that had become "her chair" over the summer and automatically accepted her own mug of cocoa from Mrs. Waters. "Thanks Aunt Sheryl," she managed passed the barrier that was forming in her throat. She coughed slightly, trying to get rid of the sticky feeling on her suddenly dry tongue. A quiet morning in the Waters household could only mean one thing. "What's happened?"

"More Dementor attacks down in London," replied Mr. Waters sombrely, glancing at the _Prophet_, which lay folded in the centre of the table. "And one in Hogsmeade. A few people were kissed, and a Honeydukes employee died…Hubert Quinton I think was his name…"

"I knew him," murmured Jon, looking steadily into his lukewarm cocoa. "I used to see him in the Three Broomsticks after work."

They were all silent for a while, until Erin pulled the _Prophet_ toward her and leafed through it as though searching for something that would distract her. Amy just stared out the mist-filled window, clutching her mug and letting the steam from her cocoa warm her face.

Despite the chill of that morning, the afternoon soon became hot as the sun peered briefly through its curtain of clouds. Mrs. Waters made lemonade for everyone after they all came back from the backyard thoroughly exhausted from playing Muggle football with Mr. Waters, who had insisted that they not levitate the ball.

"Thank you!" Erin chirped at her mother before gulping down her glass of lemonade. Amy followed suit. No sooner had she finished the last drop than she was swept off her feet, and the next thing she knew, she was dangling by her ankle, looking up (or down, from her point of view) at Jon's smirk.

"You let your guard down," he chuckled down at her.

Amy grumbled something along the lines of, "Always testing me…."

"Hey!" yelled Erin's familiar voice, and next thing she knew, Amy's head was right-way-up again, and she found herself playing the rope in a tug-of-war.

"Now, now everyone, let's all calm down," came the unconvincing voice of Erin's other brother, coming from a direction in which Amy's head couldn't quite turn. By the time he was close enough for Amy to see, Eric was mercilessly tickling her sides, making her laugh uncontrollably.

"Oh, dangit…. Amy, I can't save you from both at the same time!" cried Erin, trying to kick Eric without letting go of Amy's hands. "Hey mum! Dad!"

But her parents were too busy making great efforts not to laugh.

"Clearly I missed something."

Everyone froze at the new voice, then slowly turned their heads towards the living room. Amy craned her neck, hoping to see the person that would match the familiar voice.

"Hi," greeted Nick from the doorway.

"Oops," apologized Amy as best she could from her current position. "We sorta forgot you were coming."

"Gee, that just makes me feel all warm inside," replied Nick sarcastically, brushing soot off his jumper. Clearly he had just arrived by Floo Powder.

"Nick!" cried Erin suddenly, sprinting forward and letting go of Amy, who let out an indignant "HEY!" as she swung towards the floor (luckily Jon was holding her high enough so that she merely swung helplessly back and forth).

Erin grabbed Nick by the shoulders, which was quite an amazing feat, seeing as he had grown quite a bit over the summer and she had remained as short as ever. "You're on our team!"

"What?" inquired Nick, caught between amusement and bewilderment.

"They're ganging up on us, look!" Erin pointed to where Amy was dangling, her face becoming redder and redder as the blood rushed to it.

"Oh, no!" said Eric warningly, taking a threatening step towards his sister. "Nick has to be on our team. That way it's boys against girls."

"No way!" Erin argued back. "You guys already have the advantage!"

"So?" said Jon, watching as Amy continued to swing like a pendulum.

"What are you talking about?" asked Nick.

"Every once in a while Erin's brothers like to play their favourite game of Capture the Silly Girls, which is a reference to…well, us," explained Amy, finally coming to a stand-still (or, rather, a hang-still).

"Oh," said Nick, a rather evil-looking smile spreading across his face. "Well, that _does_ sound fun…"

Amy tried to twist her neck around to glare at Nick, but by the time she did, there was a splash, and Amy found herself looking at a lemonade-soaked Nick, who was turning exasperatedly to Erin, whose hand was holding an empty glass still aimed straight at him.

Nick let out an over-exaggerated sigh. "I guess I'm on the girl's team…"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

A/N: Whoohoo! First chapter posted! Although I'm currently planning, like 23 chapters for this fic…um, anyway! Please review to let me know what you think, fell free to berate me for my lack of updating. Once again…terribly sorry about that.

A shout goes out to Lady Jarine for all her support, and to please finish my birthday surprise!


	2. New, Unimproved Diagon Alley

A/N: Sorry about any typos last chapter (my friends found a few) and for spelling "Prophet" wrong. How embarrassing. Anyway, the name of the wizard newspaper has been fixed, so all is well.

Also sorry about the gap in updating. I went on vacation, you see. Not all was lost for this fic, though. Apparently the plains of Saskatchewan and the Rocky Mountains inspire me, so now I have a much clearer picture in my head of the rest of the fic. I've also gotten more organized, so hopefully writing will go smoother…

One reviewer told me that the Water's house is a lot like the Burrow…which is very true. Half of the parallels between my trio and the Golden trio are deliberate, and the rest sort of happen without me realizing. Sorry if that bugs anyone. However, as neither Nick nor Amy has a very happy family situation, I figured the story needed a good solid family unit. Also, as time goes on, my characters will develop more and seem less like characters out of the HP books. Hopefully, anyway.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter. Unless of course I get it for my next birthday (which is highly unlikely). So let's just say that applies for the rest of this story…

………………………………………………………………………………………………

One Last Hope

Chapter 23: The New and Unimproved Diagon Alley

"Amy."

"Munf."

"Amy!"

"Munf!"

"AMY!"

"MUNF!"

With this last shout, Amy had sat straight up and shouted at whoever had been stupid enough to wake her by verbal force.

"We're going to Diagon Alley today," said Erin, now on the other side of the room and indifferent to Amy's glare. "Mum wants the shopping done before late afternoon, and we have three sets of everything to buy, and dad's worrying about Voldemort and Eric wants to come with us and it's this whole big mess so unless you want everyone mad at you, you had better haul your butt out of bed and get ready so they don't have to worry about doing it for you."

Amy rubbed her eyes and looked blankly at her best friend. She was not a morning person. "Say all that again, but slower."

Erin sighed. "Hot cocoa downstairs."

That got Amy up. Normally she didn't like drinking hot chocolate in the summertime, but this year it had been so cold, and unnaturally foggy…because of the Dementors breeding, according to the _Daily Prophet_. And anyway, Mr. Waters made better hot cocoa than anyone Amy had ever met, though he hardly made it every day.

Once downstairs with the warm liquid in her stomach, Amy began to wake enough to fully take in the day's plans.

"Diagon Alley?" Amy asked to the kitchen at large, which was stuffed full of people fretting about one thing or another. "Isn't it a bit dangerous, what with…Mr. Ollivander and all?"

"But where else are you going to get your school stuff?" pointed out Jon.

"Well, yeah, but – "

"Scared, are you?" inquired Eric with a smirk.

"Yes, actually," said Amy quietly. The scene at the Ministry was hard to forget.

"Don't worry," he said, more comfortingly than before, and yet still managing to be cocky. He patted her on the back. "I won't let anything get you."

"You're coming? What about Jon?"

"Can't," came the answer from somewhere behind the counter. "I've got to go to work. Though business isn't exactly jumping…"

"Well, at least we don't have much to buy," commented Nick. "Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 was the only new book on the list, though I do need some more ink and parchment."

"And new robes," added Amy, noticing that her head now only reached his shoulder.

"Do you need to buy anything else but your book, hun?" Mrs. Waters inquired of her, but before Amy had the chance to reply, Erin tumbled into the room with a triumphant cry.

"I found the Floo Powder!"

"If only you could find your sanity," muttered Nick.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Amy had only used Floo Powder once before, but her dislike for it was growing fast as she walked through the Leaky Cauldron and out into the courtyard after Mrs. Waters, Eric, Erin and Nick, stumbling the whole way.

Mrs. Waters tapped her wand to a brick in the wall and next moment they were crossing over into Diagon Alley, and Eric was saying, "Right. Anyone need to stop at the Apothecary?"

Amy did, as she needed more potions ingredients, and was about to say so when the words became lost in her mouth.

Diagon Alley was no longer the cheerful, sunlit street full of chattering crowds, as it had been a year earlier, when Amy had ventured here for the first time. Here too, just as everywhere else, the fog hovered and seemed to cling to them as they walked past dark and boarded up shops, chilling them and inducing mild depression. Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour had been boarded up, as well as the shop Amy had bought her trunk in the previous year. Shadows seemed to loom from every corner, looking darker than they should have in the light escaping from the clouds overhead.

As the family walked down towards Gringotts, Amy looked around in a disapproving sort of awe. "It's…" she struggled to find a word that would accurately describe the once-friendly place. "_Different_…from when I came last."

"The Ministry was pretending Voldemort was dead when you were here last," responded Mrs. Waters.

"It's gloomier," Erin noted, still her chipper self. "Definitely an unimprovment."

"That's not a word," Nick corrected her stiffly, tense. "It's – "

"So?" was Erin's witty comeback.

Their venture into Gringotts to retrieve their gold was not fun. Security had increased along with the fog and shadows, meaning they all had to be probed with Secrecy Sensors, have their wands inspected, and prove who they were via fingerprints, which Amy had done before. They had all been too squished in the little cart, and Eric, who sometimes had motion sickness, had even thrown up over the side. Overall, it was not a pleasant trip.

Once outside, they split into groups. Eric went off with Nick to get new robes, while Amy and Erin stayed with Mrs. Waters, with whom they bought three copies of the Standard Book of Spells, Grade Two. The books were rather heavy, and Erin stumbled with them a few times before Mrs. Waters took them off her hands.

"I could have handled them myself," grumbled Erin.

Mrs. Waters smiled teasingly down at her daughter. "I don't think so, hun." She laughed good-naturedly and nudged Erin in the ribs.

"Come on," said Amy, laughing too, despite the gloomy atmosphere. "We should hurry and get to – what was that?" she asked suddenly, stiffening as something shifted on the edge of her sight.

"What was what?"

"A shadow…" Amy swallowed. "It moved."

"Moved?" came Erin's surprised voice, but her mother shushed her, pulling out her wand.

"Are you quite sure Amy?"

Amy nodded, a sense of foreboding creeping down her spine like ice water.

Mrs. Waters stepped in front of the girls, lighting her wand and pointing into the shadows. There was a tense moment before Erin burst into giggles.

"Erin!" Amy chocked out. "This is hardly –"

"It's a cat," Erin stated bluntly, moving forward and kneeling down to pet it.

"A black cat," Amy noted, the feeling returning to her legs. A cat she could deal with.

"Careful, Erin," warned her mother, but the cat just purred and brushed against Erin's knees.

"It's fine, see?" Erin reassured her mother.

"Well, if it had had rabies…" Mrs. Waters let the warning hang in the air, but was visibly relieved as they walked toward a shop that sold ink and parchment. They bought enough for all three soon-to-be-second years as well as some for the household before heading off to the Apothecary, where they'd be meeting the others.

"Urgh," shuttered Amy as soon as they stepped through the door. "It always smells so bad in here."

"Sure," said Erin, "But look at all the cool stuff!"

"You think beetle eyes and frog spawn is cool?" came Nick's familiar voice from the rather shallow depths of the shop.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Erin challenged playfully, hands on her hips. She quickly had to lower them again as Nick shoved a package in her hands.

"Here," he said. "Your potions ingredients."

Erin blinked. "How did you know which ones I needed? Are you psychic?" she added suspiciously.

"No, I'm not. But you yelled out everything you needed from Diagon Alley this morning while banging on my door when I didn't get up in a matter of three seconds." He tried to sound cross, but Amy could see the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

Erin gasped dramatically, ignoring his comment. "Did you just almost smile?" she asked in mock-incredulousness.

Nick tried to pull the corners of his mouth down. "No."

"Yes, yes you did. Who are you and what did you do to Nick? He would never smile at such a tense time!"

"Tense?" That last part had confused Amy.

"What with the state Diagon Alley is in," Erin explained.

"Oh," sighed Amy. With her mood lightened, she had almost forgotten. Perhaps she was in some sort of state of denial.

"Geeze, Amy. You could use a few lessons from the psychic Nick-look-a-like."

Nick frowned and crossed his arms, giving Erin his best low-tolerance glare.

"Oh. Never mind, that's him," Erin sighed, deflating a bit.

"Amy!"

Amy turned to see who had called her name. "Eric!" she yelled back at him, though there was little need: he was standing mere feet away. He gave her an annoyed look, but she just held her hands out to receive her package of ingredients. She had been smart enough to give him a list of things she needed instead of yelling out the information in the early hours of the morning.

After Amy had paid for her ingredients, Mrs. Waters started shepherding them all towards the door. "Well, let's get going," she said. "It's dangerous to lurk about, nowadays."

"You just want to get out of the smell," Erin teased knowingly.

"Too true," her mother stated matter-of-factly as they all exited the shop.

Amy was very glad to get out of the gloomy Diagon Alley and back into the Leaky Cauldron, which was at least gloomy in a familiar way.

"Well, look at that," Mrs. Waters seemed to be beaming at her wrist. "We made it in and out in record time."

"Really?" asked Amy. "What time is – " She was stopped short as she nearly toppled to the floor. Keeping herself upright through a combination of balancing on one foot and a hand on a not-so-happy Erin's head, she looked down to find the thing that had tripped her.

It was the black cat.

"Ooh, bad luck for you!" Eric teased. Amy grumbled, for he seemed to be right, but Erin was not so pessimistic.

"So what?" she said. "Amy's already got bad luck."

"Thank you for that," Amy ground out sarcastically, but Erin ignored her as she stroked the cat.

"Do you think maybe it followed us here?"

"Perhaps. It does look underfed. Maybe it's a stray?" offered Mrs. Waters.

"Either way, time to go," Eric said, grabbing his sister's hand and shoving a string bag of Floo Powder under her nose. "You first."

"Why me?"

"Well, it's just, I'd like to have a softer landing when _I_ fall from the fireplace."

Eric ended up Flooing first, messaging his stomach where Erin had punched him.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

T'was the night before the start of term at Hogwarts and all through the house…there was a lot of noise.

"Mum! Where are the quills?"

"Aunt Sheryl! Eric stole my Potions book!"

"Amy! I found your jumper!"

"Was it on the cat?"

"No…we don't even have a cat!"

Amy laughed as she rummaged through her trunk, occasionally grabbing things from around the room and stuffing them in. A knock sounded at the door.

"Huh?" Amy said by way of greeting.

Nick popped his head through the door. "Eric told me that Erin's mum said to remind you to not forget your broom." He paused. "I think."

"Thanks," Amy replied, "But I already went to get it." She held up the broom as proof.

Nick just sighed as someone called his name and left the room. No sooner had he left than a giant ball of feathers was thrust through the window.

"Message for you," was all she got by way of explanation, and it took Amy several seconds to realize that Erin had just flown past the window on her broom. This just made Amy laugh again as she fished out her letter, which, upon opening, she discovered was in Tomas' characteristic, yet surprisingly neat, handwriting.

_Dear Amy_, it began, and straight away Amy's sense of foreboding reached its peak. This was unnaturally formal of Tomas.

_You said Hogwarts term starts tomorrow, and I still haven't got my letter, which I guess means I'm not getting one. Apparently I'm not a wizard, then. I'll just have to go to regular secondary school, with all the other regular kids._

_Have fun in your magic castle,_

_Tomas._

Amy's stomach dropped as she felt disappointment settle over her. She wouldn't be able to help Tomas escape their mother's grasp as he had once asked her to. She wouldn't be able to see him everyday at Hogwarts, as she had once hoped. Well, at least he would get to be Mum's favourite.

A chill went through Amy as she reread the letter and realised how bitter it sounded. It had never bothered Tomas before that she got to go to a magic school while he stayed in the Muggle world. He had always been supportive of Amy even though he had been left behind. But she supposed that had been because he had hoped – even expected – that he would get to follow her when he turned eleven and he would be able to share her adventure. Now all that was left of that dream seemed to be jealousy.

This realization bothered Amy. A lot.

Just then, Erin sailed in through the window. "Who's it from?" she inquired, grabbing a few last things from her dresser and shoving them into her trunk. "Harry?"

"Tomas," Amy answered, sounding hollow.

Erin didn't notice how Amy still had the letter in her hands and was staring at it blankly. "Did he get a Hogwarts letter?"

"No."

Erin looked 'round at this and took in Amy's mood. "Is he okay? You know…with not being a wizard?"

"I don't know." Amy frowned, still staring at the paper. "I don't think so."

There was a pause.

"Are _you_ okay?"

Instead of answering what seemed to Amy to be a very complex question, Amy handed Erin the letter.

"Yikes," commented Erin a few moments later. "He seems…."

"Bitter?"

"Well…" Erin looked like she was avoiding answering the question directly, which was unlike her, and immediately made Amy feel worse.

"Jealous?"

"That depends on how you – " But Amy turned to look straight at her, and Erin sighed, dropping the fake uncertainty. "Yeah."

There was a moment of silence in which Erin looked at Amy sympathetically, and then went back to packing her trunk. Amy sat down gingerly on the bed, as though afraid it might break. Finally she worked up some courage. "Erin?"

"Hmm?" came Erin's distracted reply.

"Do you think he'll keep writing me? I mean, just because…he won't stop writing, will he?"

Erin stopped, and after a second, she turned and looked Amy straight in the eye. "I don't…I'm sorry, Amy, I just don't know."

"I figured," said Amy, her voice sounding as hollow as she felt, and she flopped down on the bed, willing herself to black out.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

A/N: Aha! Angst! You know you love it….

Sorry about the random references to the HP movies, they just worked so well!

F.Y.I.: This chappie was also delayed by school and me getting sick…urgh. Sorry about that, too.

By the way, I will not be updating at all in November (I'm SORRY!) because I'm taking the NaNoWriMo challenge and writing a 175-page novel in a month. This means free time is non-existent. But I will still be writing, and you're more than welcome to check that out. For more info on all of this, visit my Profile page. Also, free time in December will be more plentiful, and so will updating.

A special shout out goes to 9boxesofpenguins, who, despite no longer liking anything even related to Harry Potter anymore, is still supporting me by reading and reviewing this fic. That makes her awesome.


	3. Identity Crisis

A/N: So…..don't kill me. I know I haven't updated in forever, but school still sucks. I did win the NaNoWriMo challenge though! Hah! I wrote 50 000 words in 30 days! Unfortunately, my novel in only half-done…but anyway. I also had to edit the plot of this fic a bit, because part of it sucked. Moo.

About this story, I keep finding more and more links between my characters and the canon ones in the series; I think Harry Potter is starting to affect me subconsciously. Sorry if that bothers anyone, but it is what it is (hopefully it's not too cliché).

Disclaimer (cause I decided they're FUN): ……………………..okay, so that was bad judgement on my part. Please see previous chapters if you are interested in suing me. Thank you.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

One Last Hope

Chapter 23: Identity Crisis

It seemed incredible to Amy that after everything that had happened in the wizarding world, after all of the terrible things that had happened in the summer, the scene that met her as she stepped through the barrier onto platform nine and three quarters was exactly the same as it had been last year. Students everywhere were reuniting happily, exchanging summer stories with their friends and informing them excitedly of their new possessions.

"Something wrong Amy?" asked Nick, looking down at her frown.

"Everything just seems so…normal," she explained, scanning the scene for a sign of the darker times and finding none.

Erin raised an eyebrow. "You think this is normal? Weren't you raised as a Muggle?"

"Well, yes," agreed Amy as they began to push their way through the crowd, "But shouldn't there be more…I donno, worried people?" She scanned the crowd again, but once more found only what had greeted her last year.

"What, you didn't expect it to be affecting _everything_, did you?" asked Erin. When Amy shot her an inquisitive look, she explained, "Sure, bad things may be happening, but no matter what happens, people will still act like people, and behave the way they're used to behaving. It's just the way humans are. Plus, everyone feels safe here."

Nick shot a sideways glance at her. "That was unusually insightful of you," he observed.

Erin's eyes widened over-dramatically. "You're right. Quick Amy, we've got to do something shallow!" And without another word, she bounded off into the crowd, leaving her friends behind.

"Well, that was a stupid thing to say," commented Amy dryly. "Were you looking forward to a philosophical discussion or something?"

"It was just a compliment," Nick muttered under his breath, but Amy heard it anyway and smirked.

"I guess it's true what she's saying though…most things at Hogwarts will be the same, won't they?"

"Probably," agreed Nick. "After all, Hogwarts is still seen as the safest place in Britain, and everyone knows that You-Know-Who wouldn't dare attack Hogwarts as long as Dumbledore's there."

As Amy nodded, someone came through the crowd towards her. A tall, dark haired someone with glasses and a scar…

"Harry!" Amy exclaimed as he reached her. "I…you…you must've grown a foot!" she remarked rather lamely, for she could not help but notice how much she had to crane her neck to look him in the eye.

"You've grown a bit yourself," he replied, smiling down at her and putting a hand on her head, measuring her height against him. Apparently she was only as tall as his lower chest.

"Well, nobody can tell, with you standing next to me," Amy complained, but Harry just smiled again and squeezed her shoulder, and she couldn't help but smile back. "So how was your summer?"

Harry blinked at her. "That's it? I don't see you for two months, and that's all you can think to say?" he teased her, but before she could come up with what would have undoubtedly been a witty comeback, they were ambushed by Erin, who leapt between the pair and ducked to hide behind Harry, though with the difference in their heights, it was hardly necessary.

"Oh, hello Erin," Harry said in a bemused sort of way, but she shushed him with a hurried, "Pretend I'm not here."

"What did you do?" Amy asked curiously, but her question was answered before Erin could shush her, too.

"Oi! Erin, you little runt, what'd you do with my Prefect's Badge? You're gonna make me look like Percy!"

Erin shoved a fist in her mouth to keep from laughing, but Harry and Amy's laughter alerted Ron anyway, and gave away her position.

"Oh, thanks a lot you guys," Erin huffed as Ron caught up with her.

"You," he puffed (for apparently he had had to run across the platform after her) and pointed a finger at her. "Are in for it. I'm a prefect and – oh, hey Amy, Nick," he nodded at each of them in turn before turning back to Erin, his expression becoming sour again.

Before he could make another sound, he was cut off by a sharp "Ron!" as Hermione came hurrying through he masses of students towards them, her hair blowing out behind her.

"Oh! Hello you three!" she said, smiling down at Amy, Erin and Nick. "Did you have a good summer?"

They had only the chance to nod before she turned to Ron and said, "We have to get on the train. Prefects have to meet in the Prefect compartment as soon as the train leaves so that – "

"I know, know," Ron retorted feebly. With one last glare at Erin, he followed Hermione onto the train, muttering to himself.

"You stole his Prefect's badge?" inquired Nick, looking at Erin, and Amy could not tell whether he was amused or disapproving.

"Don't you tell me off," Erin defended herself. "Besides, it's your fault anyway."

"How is it my fault?"

"If you hadn't told me – hey!" she exclaimed, for Mrs. Waters had just come up, grabbed her by the back of her shirt and started hauling her away.

"Huh? What – mum!"

"I've packed your luggage on the train along with Amy's and Nick's. Now get moving before it leaves without you!" And with that, she hauled her only daughter onto the train, shutting the door in her face, and came marching back for Amy.

This must have been what "tough love" was, thought Amy as she too was unceremoniously shoved onto the train (Nick had been smart enough to walk into a compartment himself) and then hauled up again by Erin so that she could lean out the window.

It was an interesting feeling, leaning out the window to bid farewell to Erin's family. Amy's own mother was the sort of person who would have dropped her off at the station, given her a quick kiss on the cheek and then hurried off to work. That had always been what she had done when Amy had gone to summer camp. It felt good to have a group of people telling her that they'd miss her and that she should write.

As the train began to pick up speed, Amy walked down the corridor in search of an empty compartment. She was not very optimistic, however, knowing that they had probably all been filled up ages ago. Instead she, Erin and Nick joined Harry, Luna and Neville in their compartment.

"Oh, hello, you three," Neville greeted them cheerfully. "How were your summers?"

Amy shrugged. "Alright, I guess. We heard a lot of bad news, though."

"Yeah," Neville agreed. "Now that the _Prophet_ is no longer covering up mysterious incidents, they seem to link every single thing to You-Know-Who."

"They went from one extreme to the other," agreed Nick.

"Well, to be fair, they're probably right about the fact that most of it is coming from Voldemort." Erin had become completely accustomed to saying his name, and so she ignored Nick and Neville's squeaks of protest. "Though I think they might be getting a few of the details wrong."

"Probably," Harry commented bitterly, and they all knew that he was thinking of what they had written about him last year.

"Anyway," said Erin after a few seconds of awkward silence. "What did you do this summer that was actually, you know, fun?"

"Well," Harry thought for a moment. "My birthday cake was pretty good…I played a little Quidditch and…Oh yeah! Bill's getting married!" At the looks of confusion on their faces, he added, "Ron's eldest brother."

"Ooohhhh," went Erin.

"Well, that's nice," said Amy cheerfully. "I didn't think many people would be getting married around now, what with Death Eaters raiding places every week."

"Actually, according to Mrs. Weasley, it's during times like these that people tend to get married for no real reason." When Amy gave him a confused look, he continued. "She's not so thrilled about the wedding."

"Why not?"

"Well, the bride is sort of – "

"Infuriating," Hermione supplemented for him as she and Ron entered the compartment. Everyone shuffled around, squeezing closer together to make enough room for them in the small compartment.

"Oh, come on," started Ron, and before anyone could do anything to stop it, he and Hermione were bickering again. Rather than listen to them squabble, Amy decided to have a quiet conversation with Luna about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.

Before Amy could figure out just what exactly a Crumple-Horned Snorkack was, however, the compartment door slid open and a timid-looking boy Amy suspected to be in the year above hers stepped in cautiously. "Um, sorry to – excuse, but is Amy Evans here?"

Amy _Evans_. The name still sounded weird to Amy, but she had come to except it. It seemed to her almost as though Amy Philips were a different person. Philips had been her last name when she had been living as a Muggle – living with her own family – and besides, all of the wizarding records – and everyone she knew in her new life – identified her as "Evans".

"Uh, here," she said, putting up an arm so that the boy could see her from her location at the back of the compartment, behind all of the tall people. "What do you need?" she asked, stumbling over the mass of legs to stand next to him. Darn. Even _he_ was taller than her.

"Um, well…I was instructed to give this to you," he said, holding out a scroll of parchment.

"Oh," Amy frowned, taking it from him. "Instructed by who?"

"Professor Slughorn," replied the boy, biting his lip.

Amy gave him a I-haven't-a-clue-what-you-mean look, but the boy just shrugged. "He's a new teacher," he said by way of explanation, and then quickly stepped out of the compartment and hurried off.

"Uh…thanks!" Amy called after him, startled by his sudden disappearance. She turned to the others, all of whom were looking at her expectantly, and asked, "Does anyone know who Professor Slughorn is?"

"Oh, he's the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Ron answered smugly, trying to lean back with his hands behind his head but failing miserably due to the limited amount of space.

"What's he want with me then?" Amy wondered aloud, looking down at the scroll. Surely she couldn't have done anything wrong before they had even reached the castle? She looked up again when Harry groaned. "What is it?"

"He wants you to go to his compartment for lunch. Neville and I got invites, too," said Harry, holding up his own scroll.

"Um…okay…" Amy still felt that she was missing something.

"Slughorn likes acquainting himself with famous people, with students who show promise or are related to well known wizards and witches," Harry explained. "He likes to surround himself with influential people."

"He sounds sort of…" Amy struggled to find an appropriate word.

"Pompous?" Erin suggested.

"Um…I was looking for something a little less harsh, but that's basically what I meant, yeah." She looked down at the scroll again, and opened it, reading the contents. "Why does he want me to come, though? I'm only in second year, I can't say that I've shown much promise yet."

She looked up to find that everyone was giving her looks that clearly read "duh", and deflated. "Is it really just because I'm related to you?" she asked Harry.

Harry sighed, looking just as annoyed as she felt. "Probably. I guess you're still big news."

"Of course," said Hermione. "To the wizarding world, you're still _the long-lost family of the famous Harry Potter_," she continued, taking on a slightly sarcastic tone and looking at Amy sympathetically.

Amy sighed. She had to admit that instead of getting used to it, she was finding the fact that people only knew her as "Harry's cousin" and "that Evans girl" increasingly annoying. Were people ever going to see her simply for who she was?

…………………Not likely.

She didn't have much time to dwell on the matter, however, as it was growing closer to lunch time, and soon she was leaving with Neville and Harry in search of compartment C.

In general, Amy found her little lunch meeting with Slughorn to be excruciatingly boring. It was, however, also educational; Amy found that Slughorn was indeed exactly what Erin had suspected him to be: pompous. Amy couldn't remember for the life of her what each person in the compartment was supposed to have done that made them fabulous enough to have received an invitation, and other than asking her dozens of questions about Harry (who had been present, no less), Slughorn didn't seem to have any real interest in her.

Strangely, this gave her a strong desire to prove herself, but that in turn only gave her the strong desire to hit herself over the head with one of Hermione's books for caring what this man thought at all.

_At any rate, it looks like this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts class will be almost as useless as last year's_, Amy thought sullenly, as she was already forming a rather negative opinion of her new professor. Still, she knew that not all hope was lost – at least this year they would be able to practice magic.

After lunch – and it hadn't been very much of a lunch, either, for Slughorn had neglected to feed her after she had answered (however unsatisfactorily) all of his questions about Harry – she went back to her earlier compartment, in search of some real food.

Erin and Nick supplied her with a few Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties that they'd bought off the lady with the Trolley, and then Amy was left to eat in silence, brooding as she stared out the window, while the others played chess and cards and chatted away, until the forests barrelling past her turned into mountains. Would she be merely Harry's little cousin for the rest of wizarding history? Would anyone ever want to know about her, and not just what she knew about Harry?

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that when Erin clamped hands over her eyes, Amy jumped about a foot.

"Ah! Erin!"

"Stop being so grumpy, Amy, and come play cards with us. Nick's already been blown up twice!"

Nick muttered something unintelligible and Ron laughed while Hermione rolled her eyes, and something about the scene was so familiar and comforting that Amy felt compelled to join in, despite her mood. "Alright," she said, "I'm in."

"Yes!" exclaimed Erin.

Hermione chose this moment to look out the compartment door, which made Ron roll his eyes. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Hermione, he'll come back when he does. No sense worrying."

"But – " Hermione began to protest.

"What, you don't think Harry can look after himself?" Ron asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't be ridiculous. I just think he might be…erm…looking into his _theory_," she finished, giving Ron a meaningful look.

Ron's mouth opened in a sort of "O" shape while Amy, Erin and Nick exchanged confused looks with Neville.

"And which theory might that be?" asked Luna innocently.

"Uh…" Ron fumbled around for something to say, finally settling with, "None of your business."

"Honestly Ron, there's no need to rude," sighed Hermione, and as Ron was already opening his mouth to retort, the rest of them decided that they may as well start the game without the two of them. It did occur to Amy, however, that it was strange that Harry had never come back to their compartment after lunch with Slughorn, and so she followed Hermione's lead, stealing glances out the window of the compartment door every few minutes.

Their game didn't last very long, as soon the train began slowing down, and everyone in the compartment who wasn't a prefect (and therefore was not yet wearing their uniform) scrambled to pull their robes on over their muggle clothes. When they got out into the corridor, Ron and Hermione went off to fulfill their duties as prefects while the rest of them pushed their way along with the crowd, getting jostled and bumped as they headed in the direction of the exits.

Once outside, Amy, Erin and Nick were separated from Luna and Neville, and were left to find their own carriage. Amy looked around for a sign of Harry, confused as to his whereabouts, but she couldn't make out much through the thick crowd of students. Finding an unoccupied carriage proved a difficult task and Nick started complaining that the carriages would leave without them, but eventually they managed to find one with Colin and Dennis Creevey, who they knew from the DA. And indeed, no sooner had they shut the carriage door than it started moving, following the ones before it up the dark path towards the castle.

The other members of the carriage chatted amiably, but Amy sat looking silently out the window, craning her neck in an effort to see the castle. Living at Erin's had been so much fun that she had almost forgotten how much she had missed Hogwarts, but as they rounded a corner and she finally got a view of its many turrets and twinkling lights towering high above the lake, she felt like some part of her was sliding back into place.

Yes, she decided, _this_ was what it felt like to be home.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

A/N: Call me awful, if you want, for procrastinating so much on this and then writing a not-so-good chapter. But in my defence – this part was boring to write. I will acknowledge that much at least. Please review anyway; I always like to hear what you think. : )

Also, I would like to hear people's opinions on the story titles for this fic and its prequel; I want them to have better names, but I can't seem to come up with anything, so please let me know what you think of the current ones – like 'em? hate 'em? can't possibly understand what could have possessed me to name them that? Let me know.


	4. Half Hidden Secrets

A/N: Right

A/N: Right. So, I suck at updating, but at least I'm willing to admit it. If I'm not mistaken, only one person is currently reading this fic, because all my readers from the prequel seem to have disappeared. While I do mourn this loss, it is not the end of the world, and I will continue to write this story, because it improves my writing skills and I've got the plot written out and everything. Plus, I like it. (It would be nice to get a review though, if you read, to encourage me). That being said, I will stop whining and get on with the story.

Check previous disclaimers. Don't sue me. Thanks and have a good day.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

One Last Hope

Chapter 25: Half-Hidden Secrets

The welcoming feast turned out to be much more welcoming for Amy than it had been last year. Last year, everyone had stared and gawked at her, and she had learned about the darker side of magic. This year, she was greeted by her roommates, Carry and René, as well as some of her other friends from the DA. People still stared, but their eyes weren't as noticeable when she was surrounded by those who had come to be her family within Hogwarts.

The Sorting Ceremony, which had seemed so nerve-racking and exciting last year, was now boring, and more (as Erin put it) a prelude to food than anything else. The food, when it finally came, was just as Amy remembered it – magnificent. Hogwarts had never felt like home to her more than at this moment, as she took in the familiar sight of the entire school eating contentedly under a starry sky.

Nothing really eventful happened until Amy was reaching for a second helping of chocolate ice cream. Suddenly, everyone was looking towards the entrance to the Great Hall and Erin was elbowing her in the stomach, very nearly knocking her hand into the ice cream.

"What?" hissed Amy, looking around, but what she saw made an answer from Erin quite unnecessary.

Harry was walking quickly down the hall to sit next to Ron and Hermione, avoiding all of the gazes that were now upon him. Near the Slytherin table, Snape also strode up the hall, taking his place at the teachers' table before too many people could take notice of him.

"What's going on?" whispered Amy.

Erin sent her a look that clearly said 'how the heck should I know?'

Amy craned her neck to see Harry (and she was not the only one doing so), wondering why on earth he had shown up so late – and in the company of Snape.

"Hey," said Nick, squinting in the same direction as Amy. "Is that blood on his face?"

"What?" Amy hadn't been able to get a good look at his face, since he had kept it down. Twisting uncomfortably, she was finally able to see him conversing with Ron and Hermione. "I don't see any blood."

Nick frowned. "But I could have sworn his nose was all bloody."

"Maybe Hermione knows a spell to wipe it off," Erin suggested logically, shrugging.

Amy stared moodily down at her ice cream, and was not at all disappointed when it vanished from the plate. She had only been back for a few hours, and already Harry Potter was shrouded in mystery once more.

Dumbledore stood up to make his start-of-term speech, and the hall quieted down immediately, everyone's eyes turning to him. "The very best of evenings to you!" he said, looking out at the students and customarily opening his arms in welcome. Amy expected the familiar gesture to lighten her mood again, but then she saw Dumbledore's hand – his blackened, shrivelled hand – and a feeling of dread swept through her.

She was not the only one to notice Dumbledore's hand – the entire school gasped at the sight of it, and immediately, whispers and murmurs broke out amongst the students. Erin and Nick put their heads together, undoubtedly already debating what could have caused the hand of the greatest wizard alive to, well, die, but Amy continued to look at it (or where she thought it should be, for Dumbledore's sleeve had covered it up). Dumbledore had fought Voldemort last year, and Voldemort was no longer in hiding. Could they have…?

Lost in her thoughts, Amy missed most of what Dumbledore was saying until Slughorn stood up at the Staff Table.

"Professor Slughorn," announced Dumbledore, "is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

"Potions?" The word skipped through the hall, everyone looking at Dumbledore in shock, some of their gazes snapping over to look at Snape. Amy frowned in confusion; she'd thought for sure he would have been the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," continued the Headmaster, "will be taking over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Harry was heard shouting 'No!' from where he sat at the table. Erin cursed (or rather, she strung together a bunch of rather interesting sounding words and said them as though they were swears). "Fudging patty-cake…venomous toadstool droppings…popping snapfarts…"

"Erin," Nick sighed, exasperated. "If you're not going to swear properly, could you not swear at all please?"

"Well, I'm sorry," said Erin, though she clearly wasn't. "It's just that it looks like I'm going to fail Defence Against the Dark Arts again this year."

"You didn't fail last year," he reminded her.

"Well, very nearly. I couldn't be bothered to read Umbridge's stupid Ministry book and so I only got through by putting down answers I deemed as far from my common sense as possible."

Nick sighed. "It might not be that bad."

Erin looked at him as though he'd gone insane.

"I just mean that – well, he's horrible and everything, but at least he's a real teacher. And he's been after the post for a while, so maybe he'll do a decent job."

"If by decent you mean he'll fail everyone who's in Gryffindor, then yes," Erin muttered.

"I dunno," Amy addressed Nick, ignoring Erin's mutterings. "Snape just really creeps me out."

"He has that effect on almost everyone, Amy," Nick countered sympathetically.

"Yeah, but…" Amy trailed off, trying to pinpoint what it was about Snape that bothered her, other than his classroom bullying. "Have you ever noticed how he doesn't seem to look at me? Even when he's talking to me…He just never looks directly at me."

She would very much have liked to know what her friends had to say about that, but at that moment, Dumbledore called for silence, effectively ending their conversation.

After a very serious warning about Voldemort, the present times and possible safety measures, the Headmaster bid them goodnight.

It wasn't until they reached Gryffindor tower that Amy was able to talk to Harry. Sprinting across the Common Room, she grabbed hold of his arm.

"Wha -? Oh, hey Amy."

"Why were you late?" she asked quietly, aware that fellow Gryffindors were brushing past them on their way to bed.

"I," Harry glanced around, also aware of the others around him. "I got held up on the train," he muttered.

"Meaning?" asked Amy, a slight edge in her voice. Harry had told her last year that he would stop keeping her in the dark, that he would tell her more of what was going on. Looking up at his expression, however, Amy could already tell that he didn't intend to fill her in on everything. "You had blood on your face, Harry."

"Er, yeah, but I'm fine now."

"Well, that's good," said Amy, relieved, "but how did it get there?"

"I, um…I got into a fight, and, er, someone broke my nose."

"You got into a fight," Amy repeated.

"Yeah, I – don't look at me like that," Harry whispered, catching her glare. "Look, it's not really important."

"I thought you said you were going to stop hiding things from me this year!" Amy said in what could only be described as a whisper-yell.

"I'm not hiding things, I'm – "

"Protecting me?"

Several moments of tense silence followed her words, and eventually Harry's shoulders slumped slightly and he sighed. "Look, just promise me something, ok?"

"What?" Amy asked carefully.

"Just…stay away from Draco Malfoy."

"What?" Amy repeated, this time her tone baffled. "Why? I mean, I didn't plan on hanging out with him anyway," she continued quickly, seeing Harry's expression. "But why the sudden warning?"

Harry ran his hand through his hair, clearly irritated. "He's just up to no good, alright? I don't want you near him."

Amy frowned; he was playing big brother again, and skipping out on the details. "Well, that's obvious. He was on the Inquisitorial Squad last year. But what's got you so worried?"

"I don't…I don't really know anything for sure yet," he admitted (and Amy noted that it looked like a difficult thing for him to do), "But just promise you'll stay away from him, and Erin and Nick, too. Please?"

Amy looked at him. He seemed genuinely concerned, she just….

"Sure Harry, no problem."

She just wished she knew the reason.

Harry smiled at her and headed off to bed, but Amy stood where she was a little longer. Was it Malfoy who had broken Harry's nose? Was that why Harry was so wary of him? But that didn't seem to add up…Harry had fought Malfoy plenty of times before…

"Common, Airhead, let's get to our dormitory," Erin said, steering her towards the spiral staircase.

"Airhead?" Amy repeated, coming out of her thoughts.

"Airhead, Head-In-The-Clouds, same difference."

Amy laughed at this, but at the edge of the room she looked back. Ron and Hermione were by the fire, and seemed to be having a hurried conversation in low whispers. Amy frowned. What were they talking about that they couldn't tell Harry? Or what were they thinking Harry wasn't telling them?

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The first day of classes went fairly well for Amy. Her classes seemed like they would be fairly similar to last year's, and the familiar teachers greeted them with "how were your summers?" and speeches about how they were going to have to buck-up and work hard this year.

The next day, however, was a different matter. Second year Gryffindors had Potions in the morning, followed by Defence Against the Dark Arts right after lunch. To say that they were apprehensive about these two classes would have been an understatement. The general thought was that Slughorn couldn't possibly be worse than Snape, but Amy wasn't looking forward to him playing favourites – even though she was one of his "favourites" already. And everybody knew that Snape had been after the Defence Against the Dark Arts job for years but had never gotten it… Had it been for a good reason?

"Oho!" Slughorn greeted Amy as she entered the dungeon classroom. "Lovely to see you again, Miss Evans. Like Potions class much, my dear?"

"Er…" Amy struggled for something to say, Slughorn's eagerness and twitchy moustache throwing her off. "I supposed so, sir."

"Why don't you sit here at the front then, hm? I'll have you concocting excellent potions in no time."

Not really able to refuse his request, Amy sat in the front, Erin settling beside her while Nick sat just behind them; Amy knew he wanted to sit where he would attract less attention.

"All right, let's start with a little revision from last year," started Slughorn, addressing the class. Who remembers how to make a Forgetfulness Potion?"

A few people raised their hands tentatively, including Erin, who would of course remember, having an excellent memory and potions being one of her best classes.

"Oho! Quite a few of you, I see. Well, who can tell me the first ingredient, then, hm? How about you, Miss Evans?"

Amy blinked up at the professor, at a complete loss for what to do, having neither put up her hand, nor remembered how to make a forgetfulness potion in the slightest.

"Well, it's, um…" Amy wracked her brain, trying to remember, but knowing full well that that particular piece of information had flown out of her head as soon as she'd completed her exam.

"Gurdyroot," came a small whisper from behind her, so quiet she almost missed it.

"The first ingredient is Gurdyroot," she informed the professor, hoping this was the correct answer.

"Right you are, Miss Evans! Excellent! And the second ingredient, anyone?"

The second Slughorn's attention was no longer focused on her, Amy turned to look at Nick. She was about to ask him why he'd told her the answer instead of telling the Professor himself – he deserved credit, after all, for remembering something she hadn't – but stopped when she saw what he was doing. His full attention was focused on writing jot-notes on a scrap piece of parchment, some words crossed out, others circled.

When he was done, he turned to look at the teacher, concentrating on what Slughorn was saying. As inconspicuously as she could, Amy moved her head so that she could read what he'd written. On closer inspection, she recognised that it was the instructions for making a Forgetfulness Potion.

Sitting back in her seat properly, Amy listened to the class listing off the steps to make the potion, a feeling of excitement coming over her. Nick had remembered how to make a potion. Nick could never remember how to make potions. The fact that he had managed to retain that much over the summer was simply amazing, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for her friend. She sat there, waiting for him to put up his hand to answer one of Professor Slughorn's questions…

…but he never did. He kept silent throughout the whole class.

On the way to lunch, Amy followed Erin on a bathroom trip, but took her aside the moment Nick was out of earshot. "Did you see what he wrote during class?" she asked Erin, who nodded and said, "Most of his answers were right, too."

"So why didn't he put up his hand?"

"I dunno, Amy. Maybe he was just checking to see if he was right. He wasn't very good at potions last year, you know, so is confidence in the class isn't high. It isn't high anywhere else, either, actually."

Amy sighed, knowing Erin wasn't trying to be insulting – just honest. "I just wish he'd try, though."

After lunch, the second year Gryffindors trouped to Defence Against the Dark Arts, where they spent the first fifteen minutes being lectured about the dangerous, ever-evolving monster that was the Dark Arts. Amy had to admit that it was the least boring lecture she had ever received. Snape walked slowly around the room, showing them horrifying posters he had put on the walls and explaining details about them that made them shiver. He really knew his stuff when it came to the Dark Arts – and that made the students trust him even less.

Defence Against the Dark Arts, as taught by Snape, was very different from what they had gotten used to last year. Snape wasn't into the "wands away please, read this chapter" approach. After he was done scaring them sick, he had them grouped in pairs, practicing Expelliarmus on one another. Though this was a huge improvement, the class was similar to Umbridge's in one way – Snape also believed that there wasn't any real need for them to talk, other than to shout out the spell they were trying to cast.

Of course, he permitted _himself_ to talk, criticizing one and all for their stupidity and lack of skill, completely ignoring those students who had been in the DA, who by now could all perform the spell perfectly. By the end of the class, most people had gotten the hang of it, though there were still some who weren't able to control the direction in which their opponent's wand went flying.

"I'm ready for bed," Erin admitted as they left the classroom.

"We haven't even had dinner yet, though," said Nick.

"I know, but Snape has this weird ability to suck away all my energy. His classroom is like this giant sponge, absorbing happiness like some sort of Dementor. And it's really weird to see him out of the dungeons for class."

"True, and I _could_ do with some chocolate to lift my spirits about now," said Amy. "I wish the DA would start again. Harry always said 'good job' when we did really well."

"Plus, he didn't do that creepy oh-I'm-right-behind-you-all-of-a-sudden-when-you-turn-around thing," Erin added.

Nick raised an eyebrow at her.

"It creeps me out!" she exclaimed.

"Well, I doubt Harry will start the DA again," said Nick. "It didn't end well last time, and he's probably got enough on his plate at the moment."

And as Amy stared down at her own plate during supper, she wondered if what Nick had said was true, and if Harry would ever get around to telling her what he had on his plate other than mashed potatoes.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"This is ridiculous."

It was Saturday evening, and Amy, Erin and Nick were in their usual spot by the common room window, attempting to finish their homework. The teachers had already started giving them more homework than they were used to, and Erin hadn't stopped complaining about it since McGonagall's first assignment.

Surprisingly, Nick stayed silent. He had been telling her off for the last hour and it finally seemed as though he'd gotten tired of it. Noticing this, Erin turned to Amy, smirking. "D'you wanna play a game of Gobstones?"

Amy sighed, looking down at her Charms essay, of which she had completed solely the title. "I think I should probably keep working…this is due on Wednesday…"

Erin looked only mildly disappointed. "I s'pose you're right." She turned back to her work and frowned. "This is ridiculous."

"You've said that at least five times in the last half-hour," commented Nick.

"And you've obviously found it more entertaining to count how many times I've said it than to do your homework."

"No…I'm merely multitasking."

"Doesn't that require an attention span of some kind?"

Amy sat there, neither listening to Erin and Nick's playful insults nor thinking about what kinds of charms could animate inanimate objects. She didn't understand why, but she just couldn't concentrate. She had this feeling that she should be doing something else, something more important…which was, of course, ridiculous.

She tried to begin her essay, but words kept failing her. This was extremely irritating, because usually she could write quite a good essay, and she'd already done her research in the library. Introductions had always been her weak point, but still…

"I'm going to bed," she announced to her friends, feigning tiredness. "I'm too sleepy to work."

"Oh, no, Amy! You can't abandon me! Next thing you now Nick will have me recite my times-tables!"

"I'm sure you'll be fine." Amy rolled her eyes at her friends as a way of bidding them goodnight, and then headed to the girl's dormitory, passing Harry by the fireplace.

"What's that you're reading?" she asked him, noticing the old, battered book he held.

"Oh," said Harry, looking up. "It's my potions book. I'm not exactly reading it, just looking through it."

"For homework?"

"No…just to see what's in it, really."

Amy raised an eyebrow. "You're reading a school book voluntarily? Is Hermione threatening you?"

Harry chuckled. "No, no. Take a look." He showed her some writing along one of the margins of the page he was on.

"What's so great about graffiti?" she asked, but something in her stomach tightened. The writing…there was something she didn't like about it. It was ordinary handwriting – rather nice handwriting, actually– but something about it felt off.

"It's not graffiti, it's comments!" Harry explained. "I had to borrow a textbook for Potions. The guy who had this book before me was a genius, look! He's modified the Potions to make them better, and I think some of these spells in the margins are ones he made up himself!"

Amy noticed that Hermione, seated opposite Harry, became increasingly irritated as he spoke, shooting the book dirty looks.

"Do you know who wrote all that stuff?" Amy asked, nervous for some reason.

"No…" Harry looked disappointed. "The only clue I have is this." He showed her something on the back of the book.

"This book is the property of – " Amy started to read, but stopped; her mouth had gone dry, and she seemed unable to form the next words.

"The Half-Blood Prince," Harry nodded, finishing her sentence. The name sent a cold shiver through Amy that left her feeling heavy and chilled. She shook herself, telling herself she was overreacting. After all, she had never heard of this person before. But when she slid her gaze back to the book, she felt a definite sense of foreboding.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, noticing her pale face.

"I – nothing," said Amy. "But, Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"I – I think you should ask for a different book."

Harry blinked at her. "Why? This book is great! My potions are a lot better when I follow the Prince's instructions."

"Sure, but…"

"But what?"

"I dunno…I just get a bad feeling about it, like something's not right."

Harry looked irritated. "Not you too! Hermione's been badgering me about it all week, saying I'm cheating – "

"That's not what I'm saying," said Amy, annoyed now. "I just have a bad feeling about it, alright?"

"How come?"

"I don't know! I just think you should get rid of it."

Harry looked at her a moment, a worried frown on his face, but Amy knew he was worried about her, not about the book. She didn't even know why he ought to worry about the book in the first place…

"I'd better go…" said Harry, glancing at his watch. "It's five to eight…"

"What's at eight?" Amy asked, noticing that both Ron and Hermione had perked up at his words.

"Er…" Harry looked hesitant. "Nothing really, I just have to get going…" He stood up as he spoke, pocketing his book and getting ready to go, but Amy didn't take the hint to leave.

"What's at eight, Harry?" Amy asked again, making each word clear.

"It's…it's – "

"A secret?"

Harry sighed, looking defeated. "Fine. But you can't tell anyone else okay? Not even Erin or Nick. This is really important."

Amy blinked, startled by the fact that it was something she couldn't tell her best – and trusted – friends. "Erin and Nick wouldn't – " she blurted quickly.

"I know, I know, but I'm not supposed to tell anyone but those two," said Harry, nodding at Ron and Hermione. "And it's really important," he repeated.

"What is it?"

Harry looked around cautiously, then said, "I'm taking private lessons with Dumbledore."

Amy let this sink in for a moment. That had been the last thing she'd expected. "Lessons on what?"

"I don't know yet," said Harry. "But I think it's got something to do with fighting Voldemort."

Amy's eyes widened, and a shot of fear splashed her insides, but all she said was, "So it _is_ really important."

"Exactly," said Harry. "So that's why I've got to get going. I'll see you later, okay?" He gave her a small smile and walked past her, but Amy still had one more question to ask.

"Will you tell me what he teaches you?"

Harry looked back at her. "I'll ask him if I can."

And with that he walked quickly across the common room and climbed out of the portrait hole.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

A/N: Tadaa! Another chapter done (if extremely late --')  my attempt at a sweat drop. Anyway, let me know how you liked it. The more you bug me (nicely – have mercy) the quicker I'll update.

Oh, and yes, some of the feast dialog is directly from the book and written by the lovely JK Rowling.

Tata!


	5. Gut Feelings

A/N: Upon seeing that this story had been recently put on a couple people's favourite lists, I bounced up, down and all around and tried to update more quickly :D. Unfortunately, school is gross and a lot of work right now. And I'm terribly sorry, but next month is November, which means NaNoWriMo (go check it out, it's actually really cool). It basically means I have to write a short novel in a month, which is cool, but it also means I can't update again until December. I'm sorry! But I'm trying to set aside time every week to write this, so hopefully I'll be more successful at updating this once December rolls around. I've instructed a friend to bug me about it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Once again a huge thanks goes out to all those who have taken an interest in my writing, if only to alleviate their boredom.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

One Last Hope

Chapter 26: Gut Feelings

Amy hardly slept at all that night. Instead she lay awake wondering what Dumbledore could be teaching Harry. She knew it must have something to do with fighting Voldemort. The logical answer was advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, but somehow that didn't fit. Dumbledore was smarter than to think that after just one year of extra practice Harry would be on par in Duelling with one of the two most powerful wizards of the age, who had had more than fifty year's experience. No, Harry was going to need something else to beat Voldemort, but the only thing Amy could think of at the moment was dumb luck, and that didn't strike her the most useful defence.

When Amy got up the next morning, she was somewhat disgruntled to discover that Erin had already left. Looking at the clock, Amy realized she had slept the morning away. Groggily she got up and went about getting dressed, then stumbled her way down to the Great Hall.

"There she is," Erin trilled happily as Amy plonked down beside her.

Mmf," was Amy's only reply as she reached for the bacon, only to realize that there was none. "Where's the bacon?"

Erin rolled her eyes. "It's not breakfast, silly. You slept through the whole morning. It's lunch now."

"Right," Amy muttered. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"I though you deserved some extra sleep," said Erin. "You're not known for having an excellent record of good night sleeps, you know."

Amy sighed. "Thanks, but I still don't feel any more rested."

"How come?" Nick asked over his bowl of soup.

"Didn't get to sleep until late," she replied evasively, taking a sandwich from a nearby plate.

"You should really stop worrying so much," Erin commented with a wave of her hand. Amy opened her mouth to deny being worried, but Erin continued with, "What's on the go today, folks? Anyone up for a game of chess?"

"_Folks_?" Nick raised his eyebrows at Erin over the top of his spoon.

"Maybe later, I'm writing to Tomas as soon as I finish my sandwich," Amy jumped in, not in the mood for one of their "wit versus non-wit" competitions, as Erin called them.

"He's talking to you again?" Erin ended on an apologetic note, having realized that what she was saying wasn't entirely tactful halfway through her sentence.

"Not exactly," Amy avoided her friend's eyes as she picked off bits of her bread. "But I figured I'd write again to see if he responds. It can't hurt." _I hope_.

"Well, erm, good luck?" Erin flinched as she finished speaking and Nick shot a pea at her head.

"Thanks," Amy said quickly. "I'll see you two later, okay?" With that, she stuffed the remainder of her pork sandwich into her mouth and all but ran to the Owlery, missing the worried glances that her best friends gave each other.

Amy sat in the Owlery for a good half-hour trying to figure out what to write to Tomas. Her quill hovered in her hand just above the parchment, but she hadn't made a single mark, hadn't written a single word.

She had, however, gone over many possible beginnings in her head.

Dear Tomas, don't be such a brat. You wish you were me now, but when you're a successful lawyer or doctor or something, I'll probably be dead already.

No, no. She couldn't alert him to the war, and cynicism really wasn't the best approach.

Dear Tomas, what do you want from me? I can't just wave my wand and make it so that you can come to Hogwarts with me. Needles into matches and Muggles into wizards are two completely different…

No, pointing out that she could do magic and he couldn't wouldn't help anything.

Instead, she finally settled for:

_Dear Tomas,_

_How are you? Kids at school treating you alright?_

She continued the letter in this manner, pretending she hadn't noticed his sour tone the last time he'd written, pretending that everything was fine. She tied the letter to Tawny's leg and looked her owl in the eye.

"You make sure he replies, ok? But no pecking."

In response, Tawny took off through the open window. Amy hoped that signalled an affirmative, hoped that her brother would be swayed and write her back.

But she knew better. She knew her brother. The way he was likely to see this was that she was special and he was not, and that because that wasn't fair it meant that she'd abandoned him, leaving him to a world of normalcy when he knew there was so much more, and he wasn't likely to forgive her for that.

Amy passed the next few days in a rather surly mood, wondering if Tomas would write back and worrying about his response. It didn't help that in the back of her mind, something else kept nagging at her, seeping out of the box in which she'd sealed it up tight. Slowly, one by one, she was losing the people she loved in the Muggle world. If her brother quit on her, the only one left would be Tara, and Amy was simply unable to contemplate the possibility that she might not be able to hold on to her best friend.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

It was Wednesday before anyone was successful in breaking Amy's trance-like depression. Harry caught her arm as she was filing out of Charms class, her last class of the day, and led her to a corner of the hall where they wouldn't be overheard by the milling students.

"Hey," he said, fidgetting. "I wanted to talk to you."

When he didn't elaborate, she prodded, "About what?"

"Um, well…you said you wanted to know what I was learning in my, er, classes with Dumbledore."

"You mean the super-secret ones that you didn't want to tell me about?" Amy shot back sourly.

Harry, instead of getting annoyed, as she knew he'd have done last year, tilted his head at her. "You okay, Amy? You seem a little on-edge."

She took a deep breath. "Yes, sorry. I'm all right. What did you want to say?" She did her best to keep her tone light and interested this time.

Harry looked doubtful, but continued anyway. "Well, I asked Dumbledore, and he says I'm allowed to tell you, er, the gist of it."

"The gist of it," Amy repeated blankly.

"Yeah." Harry was now looking determinedly at a spot on the wall to his left. "I can't tell you, you know, details or specifics – Dumbledore doesn't want anyone knowing that doesn't have to – but I can tell you what the lessons are about, in general." He looked back at her, watching for her reaction.

But Amy hid her reaction well, mulling over his answer in her mind. It was good that she as getting at least a bit of information, and she could see why Dumbledore wouldn't want to be giving out top-secret information to a second year student. And she knew she couldn't contribute much to the fight against Voldemort at this stage anyway. Still, she resented it. She also wondered whom Dumbledore thought needed to know these things, apart from Harry.

"So what did he teach you?" She tried her best to hide her annoyance, knowing it wouldn't help any.

"Basically about Voldemort's past."

This gripped Amy's interest in spite of herself. "Voldemort's past?"

"Yeah, he's collected memories that will show me things about Voldemort that he thinks I should know."

"And?"

"Well…" Harry hesitated, but then continued. "The first memory was from someone who had gone to the house that Voldemort's mother had lived in, so I got to see his mother, and she was sort of, well…almost abused, I guess."

"Sort of almost?"

"Yeah, her father wasn't very fond of her. Anyway, Dumbledore explained about how she'd made this Muggle fall in love with her with a Love Potion and married him."

Amy's eyebrows knit together. She'd never expected Harry's special sessions with Dumbledore to be history lessons, but she supposed that made sense. Know your enemy, and all. Still, she hoped that wasn't the only thing Harry was going to learn, because Voldemort would surely blast him to bits all the more for talking about his mother.

"That sounds like a potentially problematic relationship," she said.

Harry chuckled humourlessly. "Yeah. He left her when the potion wore off and he found out she was a witch…she was already pregnant, of course…"

Amy nodded, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, she raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And that's all I learned on Sunday," said Harry. Then he smiled half-heartedly. "You'll have to stay tuned for the next part of the story."

"Oh, goody," Amy rolled her eyes.

Harry continued to smile for a second, then frowned. "Are you sure you're okay, Amy?"

"Huh?" Amy had completely forgotten that she was in a foul mood, thanks to Harry's story telling.

"Nick told me he and Erin have been a bit worried the last few days…he said you've been – "

"All moody and stuff, yeah," Amy finished for him. She sighed. "I'm fine, really…just having a bit of a spat with my brother." Yes, that was it. Just a spat.

Harry grimaced sympathetically. "What sort of spat?"

"Well, he didn't get a letter this summer…" she trailed off as Harry's face showed understanding, then worry.

"Look, it's okay. I'm sure I can sort it out. I'll be back to being myself in no time." And she meant it. She would have to stop acting like a self-absorbed brat if she ever wanted to be helpful to Harry, and she felt like kicking herself for making her friends worry.

Harry was smiling again. "Good. Just make sure your friends know that." As Amy nodded, he said, "Hey, what are you doing next Saturday?"

Confused at the question, Amy blinked. "Nothing out of the ordinary, I don't think."

"You're not trying out for Quidditch?"

"Oh." Amy hadn't even considered it. She'd had so much on her mind that she hadn't been thinking about Quidditch at all. "I guess I'm not."

"You should," he said with sincerity. "I think you'd have a decent shot."

Amy laughed, the first time she'd done so in days. "I hardly think I'm good enough. There's a whole school full of people –"

"And you'd be surprised how many of them nearly failed Flying Lessons."

"Is that even possible?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I still think you should try. Erin said you were a pretty good Chaser over the summer."

But it wasn't proper Quidditch – "

"The worst that'll happen is that you don't make the team," Harry pointed out. "You're a good flyer, you won't make a fool of yourself."

Amy considered this for a moment. It was certainly tempting…

"I guess I could try."

Harry's face broke into a grin. He said goodbye and then turned down the hall back towards the Gryffindor common room. Yelling over his shoulder, he said, "I can't go easy on you, you know."

Amy smiled. "I know."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Amy spent the rest of the week looking foreword to Saturday, but by the time it rolled around, she was starting to wonder if trying out for the Quidditch team was such a good idea.

"You'll be fine," Nick reassured her as Amy stared down at her breakfasts, her stomach gurgling unpleasantly.

"Seven." Erin was finding it amusing to count how many times they'd told Amy that she'd be fine that morning.

Feeling the need to comment on this, Amy offered an, "That's _extremely_ helpful, Erin, thank you."

"You're extremely welcome," Erin replied, ignoring the irony. She frowned suddenly, looking over. "What's up, Nick?"

Distracted, Amy looked up to see Nick scowling at his _Daily Prophet_.

"Ministry's made an arrest," he told them.

"Really?" asked Amy, as Erin dropped her piece of toast. "Who did they arrest?"

"Stan Shunpike, this employee on the Night Bus – "

"Stan?" interrupted Erin. "They arrested _Stan Shunpike_? For what?"

"Being a suspected Death Eater."

Erin scoffed. "They're out of it. _I'd_ make a better Death Eater than he would."

"I seriously doubt that," said Nick, but Amy was worried.

"Do they have any evidence?"

"Uh…" Nick scanned the article, "He said some stuff in a bar…"

"Oh, concrete evidence, that," remarked Erin darkly.

"But if they're arresting people without proper cause, how is this Minister better than the last one?" asked Amy.

"He's not," said Erin.

"Well, if nothing else, at least people are better aware of Voldemort than they were. He _is_ making an effort to protect people…" commented Nick, not sounding entirely convinced of his words.

"Or he's making an effort to make it _look_ like he's protecting people," muttered Erin.

The three of them sat in silence for a bit, contemplating this on their own, but after a few moments, Amy's mind was back to being nervous about the Quidditch tryouts and would not be swayed to think of anything else, not matter how serious.

"I don't think I'm going to eat anything," Amy stated suddenly, as if concluding a conversation she'd been having with herself. "It would be much more of a mess to clean up if I barfed."

Nick rolled his eyes and folded up the _Prophet_. "You're not going to barf. You've been on a broom loads of times."

"Not in front of the whole school, I haven't."

"Just ignore them," suggested Nick at the same time Erin said, "That just makes it more exciting!"

Nick frowned at Erin. "Why aren't you trying out, then? You played fairly well this summer."

Erin shrugged. "I don't like the competition. What?" she continued as her friends gave her strange looks. "It's like Hermione says, it creates animosity between houses."

"But you love poking fun at people," Amy pointed out.

"That's 'cause they know I'm joking. Anyway, I'd be under too much pressure, it'd take the fun out of it." Erin grabbed a piece of toast and shoved it at Amy. "If you're nervous then at least eat this. We don't want you fainting on us."

Nick glared at Erin, but Amy took the toast, thinking that Erin probably had a good point.

She realized, and hour later on the pitch, that she needn't have been this worried. When Harry called forth all the second year students who wished to try out for Chaser and made them fly a loop, almost all of them fell off two feet from the ground, ran into each other or else stayed on the ground, collapsing into fits of giggles. Only Amy and two others from her group moved on to the next part (which actually involved holding a Quaffle), being the only ones to have made it twice around the pitch.

The second round wasn't too bad either; throwing the Quaffle through the hoops was fairly simple, as she'd gotten a fair amount of practice by then. But when it came time for her to try and score while others where trying to steal the Quaffle from her, Amy's nerves picked up again. She was the only second year to have made it this far, and she was competing against Katie Bell and Ginny and others she was fairly certain far outmatched her skill. She mounted her broom again, her sweaty hands slipping a little on the handle, and took off.

It wasn't nearly as bad as she'd anticipated. True, she had nearly fallen off her broom when someone had knocked her sideways; and true, one of the girls had almost broken her nose attempting to steal the Quaffle from her; but she scored seven times, lost the Quaffle only twice (the other times she'd passed it to others), and made it back to the ground in one piece.

"Alright," Harry addressed the group, by now looking very short-tempered. "These decisions are final, so I don't want any trouble from anyone who didn't make it. Ginny, Katie, and Demelza, you're our Chasers. Amy, you'll be reserve."

"Huh?" Amy looked up from the grass, which she had found incredibly interesting until that moment. "I'm on the team?…sort of?"

Harry nodded and smiled at her as those who hadn't made the team wandered off, grumbling to one another. "You won't be at every practice, of course, but I'll want you there at least once a week."

"Changing the training program at bit?" asked Katie.

"Yeah, after what happened last year, I want to make sure we have reserves who know what they're doing and can play well with the rest of the team," said Harry.

Katie nodded. "Good idea. Have we got any other reserves?"

"Well, Brent Collins is our reserve Beater, so he'll come to practice when Amy does. Ginny, you're reserve seeker, so if I can't play, Amy'll fill your spot."

Ginny nodded. When Harry dismissed them, she smiled at Amy and thumped her on the back as the Chasers walked off the pitch so that Keeper trails could start.

It was on the walk back up to the castle that Amy's shock subsided and her stomach re-solidified, and this wonderful warm feeling flooded through her so that she was tempted to jump around and cheer. Instead she contented herself with being flushed with success, while Erin took to jumping around and cheering beside her, and Nick offered a few words of sincere praise.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Amy was still reaping the benefits of her good mood two days later. Her bag had torn a hole, there had been only boiled potatoes at dinner, and she had had to spend two evenings in a row researching in the library, yet she was still in high spirits.

Unfortunately, a happy-balloon-popping pin in the form of Hermione Granger met up with her on Wednesday before breakfast.

"Hello, Amy! I haven't seen you for a while, getting along alright?" Before Amy could answer, she ploughed on. "Listen, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a while about…about Harry's Potions textbook."

"Harry's Potion's textbook?" Amy repeated. "Oh, yeah," she said, remembering. "The one that's sort of weird, right?"

"Yes, that's what I thought, too," said Hermione, obviously relieved. "I don't mean to pry, but – but I remember when you saw it in the common room you said you got a bad feeling about it."

"Yeah, I did," replied Amy, recalling the shiver it had sent down her spine. "It just didn't feel right, for some reason – like it was off somehow."

"Well," continued Hermione, ringing her hands a bit, "I was wondering if you could explain that a little more."

Amy frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well…" Hermione was now biting her lip. "I just…I know that you had visions last year, and I thought maybe that your…your gut feeling, or whatever it was, about this book might be, well, accurate, or at least a good indication of something."

"An indication of what?"

"I'm not sure exactly. We don't know enough about the book to tell anything for sure, but I thought you might know, or at least have an idea, what your impression of it meant, or something," she said hopefully.

"Sorry, Hermione. I rarely understood my visions. I doubt I'll have much more luck with interpreting my 'gut feelings'."

Hermione nodded. "But do you feel that they might be connected? Like your visions and this gut feeling are…I don't know, related?"

Amy thought for a moment. "I…I suppose so." She hadn't really realized it before, but it made sense. The feeling that the book was off had the same sort of certainty that her visions had had that convinced her they were real.

Hermione bit her lip again.

"What are you thinking?" Amy asked curiously.

"I'm thinking that we're probably right that there's something strange about this whole 'Half-Blood Prince' thing, but Harry won't listen to me. He thinks I'm just annoyed that he's doing better than I am in Potions," she scoffed.

Amy privately felt that this was probably partly true, but she kept that thought to herself and said instead, "I thought you didn't really believe in these sorts of things."

Hermione looked at her. "That's because I took Divination, and Professor Trelawney is _definitely_ a fraud…well, mostly," she amended reluctantly, and something in Amy's head told her this was important, though she couldn't reckon why. "Whether you're a Seer or not, you've proven that your visions are accurate," continued Hermione, "So I'm inclined to trust them."

Amy nodded. "Well, I'll let you know if anything happens, like a weird dream about it, or any more gut feelings, or anything. But I doubt we'll be able to convince Harry to get rid of it."

Hermione sighed, nodding. "You're right. But thanks for your help." She checked her watch. "I'd better head off to breakfast if I want to be on time for Ancient Runes. I'll see you later, Amy. Take care."

"Yeah, you too."

"Oh!" Hermione stopped suddenly. "And congratulations on making reserve for the Quidditch team!"

"Thanks!" replied Amy, trying to let this lift her spirits back to where they had been, but it was no use. Now that Hermione was gone, whatever Amy had thought was important about Trelawney kept nagging at her. It wasn't until after lunch that something in her mind slid into place.

Prophecies. Last year, in the hospital wing, Dumbledore had said that Professor Trelawney had made prophecies. Hermione had said that she was _mostly_ a fake. Could the "mostly" have been referring to those prophecies? Did this mean that Trelawney's prophecies were accurate? And what were they, exactly? Both Dumbledore and Harry knew, and since they hadn't told Amy, it was clear that she wasn't going to be told anytime soon.

Which was annoying, really, thought Amy as she seated herself next to Erin in Transfiguration, because her gut feeling was telling her that the answers to these questions were somehow crucial.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

A/N: Whew! I don't know why this chapter exhausted me - it isn't very long. Probably because I wanted to put this up to give you something before I disappeared for NaNoWriMo, but unfortunately it's getting harder to find time to write. Hopefully I'll have better luck from now on. And yes, I changed the Quidditch facts slightly from the canon. Small stuff like that will happen more and more, because if they didn't, I wouldn't have much of a story. But worry not; the majority of the canon plot remains intact. Now… review! That's right, it's the begging-for reviews part of the A/N!…anyway, please review, it helps me out a lot. : D

Thanks to everyone and I'll see you in December!


End file.
